A Truly Angelic Gentleman
by RiddleBlack
Summary: Greg Lestrade liked to think of himself to be a rational man. He worked for the police force, after all, and one couldn't function well there if they went off day dreaming about magical places and wishing spells and what not. But what happens when a mysterious man crash lands a shooting star in front of his flat? Mystrade, mentions of Johnlock and MorMor. AU!Angels, Demons, etc.
1. Chapter 1: A Mysterious Introduction

**A Truly Angelic Gentleman**

**Chapter 1: A Mysterious Introduction**

Greg Lestrade liked to think of himself to be a rational man. He worked for the police force, after all, and one couldn't function well there if they went off day dreaming about magical places and wishing spells and what not. Which is likely why his first thought when a loud explosion was heard just outside his flat was 'Bloody hell, was that a gas leak!?'

Cautiously stepping out of his flat, Greg searched for the source of the noise. Smoke filled the air and he squinted to peer through it. He was surprised that no one else was investigating as well, before remembering that most of the other tenants were off on vacation this time of year. Finally, the smoke started to clear and Greg's mouth dropped at the sight.

A man stood on top of an enormous pile of what appeared to be… flaming ash? He was dusting off his rather expensive-looking suit and leaning on a long, black umbrella. He looked to be about Greg's age, if not a bit younger. His brown (almost ginger) hair was set perfectly in place and his blue-ish gray eyes looked about the area judgmentally. He finally peered over at Greg.

"Ah. Gregory Lestrade, I presume?" the man said. It was a statement, rather than a question. Greg nodded dumbly. The man's mouth quirked a bit, almost a smile. He hopped down from his place on the… whatever it was and stood in front of him.

"I am Mycroft Holmes. Pleasure to meet you, Detective Inspector." The man, apparently Mycroft, offered, holding out his hand. Greg snapped suddenly out of his dumbfounded trance.

"Whoa, whoa! Hang on a tic! Just who the hell are you!?"

"Well, I do believe I just introduced myself, but if you wish for me to do it again. 'I am Mycro-'"

"No! That's not what I meant! I mean- ugh! How do you know who I am!? How the hell did you get here and what the fuck is that!?" he cried, gesturing to the unknown flaming mass sitting a few meters from where they were standing.

"That," Mycroft explained, pointing with his umbrella, "is a 'shooting star', as most call it, but it also functions as my transportation, I suppose." Greg's eyes widened.

"Your 'transportation'!?" He hissed, his jaw dropping once again. Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Yes, my transportation. But I don't believe I answered all of your questions," he continued, "I know quite a bit about you, Gregory, simply because I'm supposed to."

"What is that supposed to mean!?" For the first time, Mycroft smiled. It sent chills up Greg's spine. As he pressed the tip of his umbrella to Greg's chest, he leaned forward and whispered "I am your guardian angel, Gregory."


	2. Chapter 2: Hereditary

**A Truly Angelic Gentleman**

**Chapter 2: Hereditary**

Along with being rational, Greg also liked to believe he was a sensible man. However, he started to reconsider that once he realized that just invited this supposed 'guardian angel' into his flat. The mysterious man was glancing about, taking in the room. Greg placed two cups of tea on the coffee table, offering Mycroft a seat. He took it politely.

"Okay, so… who exactly are you?" Greg murmured, taking his seat. Mycroft looked annoyed by the question.

"I've already told you who I am, twice now, but I'll tell you again and I'd appreciate it if you listened this time. I am Mycroft Holmes, your gu-" He was cut off.

"No, sorry. What I meant was… um…" He didn't really know what he meant, so he decided to go with a more chit-chat start off.

"So… your name's Holmes? I know a bloke with that name. He's a bit of a prat, mind you, but he's smart and helps out the force a bit. His boyfriend's nice enough, though. Keeps him in check." He started, laughing somewhat nervously. Mycroft sipped his tea.

"Yes. Sherlock's mentioned you before. He can be… a handful, at times, but that's how younger siblings are, I suppose."

Greg nearly spat out his tea. "Sorry, siblings? Does that mean he's-" Mycroft held up a hand to stop him.

"Yes, obviously. He doesn't pay very much attention to human interaction, though, so he tends to stand out quite a bit."

"So, is he John's… guardian angel?" He looked increasingly confused, receiving a smirk from Mycroft.

"Well done, Gregory." He said, taking another sip from his mug. Greg's eyebrows furrowed together.

"But then… is it okay for them to be… you know…" He bit his lip, not really sure on how to word the question.

"Relationships such as theirs don't happen very often, but they aren't exactly frowned upon, so long as the angel remains their guardian, even if they are no longer needed. It is a common misconception that we consider two males together a sin." He stated a matter-of-factly, folding his hands together in his lap.

"So John knows that he's his guardian?" Mycroft simply nodded. Cocking his head slightly, he raised an eyebrow at Greg. "You have more questions."

"Yeah," Greg muttered, running his fingers through his silver hair, "Um… how am I supposed to know you really are an angel?" Mycroft's brow quirked somewhat cockily. "Was that molten pile of gas in front of your flat not enough proof for you?" he asked sarcastically before nodding towards the window, "But if you are still not convinced, take a look now."

Greg stood and peered out the window, gasping at the sight. The star had disappeared and there was no evidence that it had ever been there in the first place. When he turned back, mouth agape, Mycroft had a smug grin on his face.

"Next question?"


	3. Chapter 3: Clarifications

**A Truly Angelic Gentleman**

**Chapter 3: Clarifications**

"Next question?"

Greg shook his head before speaking. "How the hell did you do that?" Mycroft's brow quirked as he sent him a sarcastic look.

"How do you think?"

"I don't know… 'Godly magic' or something?" Greg answered nervously.

"Precisely." Mycroft replied. Greg ran a hand over his face. "Sure, _obviously_." He groaned, flopping back into his seat. "Okay… aren't angels supposed to be seen only by the people they're 'guarding'?"

Mycroft chuckled at this. It was a melodious sound that shocked Greg, but he liked the way it sounded. "Another common misconception. We've noticed that your society tends not to look too kindly upon people who appear to be speaking to someone that 'isn't there'."

Greg nodded, understanding his point. Most people who did something like that were labeled as schizophrenic or something of the like. He turned to face Mycroft.

"Okay. But why now? Why bother showing up now? Don't angels show up when someone is in need of a reality check or something?" Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"It seems that you get most of your ideas of angels from films. Honestly, it is bordering on imbecilic." He ignored Greg's harsh glare and paused, trying to think of a… softer way of explaining to him. "Gregory, did you know John before you met him with Sherlock?"

Greg shook his head. "No. First time I met him. Why?" Mycroft sighed, his expression saddening slightly.

"When John first returned from his military service in Afghanistan, he was growing more and more depressed. Sherlock insisted that we send him." Greg still looked confused. "If we hadn't sent Sherlock, John was going to kill himself."

Greg was surprised, to say the least. John always seemed at least mildly cheerful when they talked. He had never seen John upset or sad, let alone depressed. However, these thoughts of John were short-lived when he realized what Mycroft was trying to convey.

"I'm going to die!?" Greg shot up from his seat in horror. He had always known that being on the force meant there was a chance of that happening, but _knowing _that it's going to happen is terrifying. Mycroft looked up at the unsettled man.

"Not as long as I'm here. I'm not going to let it happen." Mycroft's eyes following Greg as he paced about the room.

"Well… how then? How am I supposed to die that you're going to save me from, hmm? Thief, murderer, what!? Or am I just going to be so panicked from it all that I'm going to _kill myself_!?" He ran his fingers through his hair again, nervously.

"Gregory, you believe in God, yes?" Greg turned his head towards Mycroft, puzzled by the question.

"Well, yeah. I guess, especially now, considering YOU are here, but what of it?" Mycroft frowned tiredly.

"So you believe in heaven and hell?" Greg didn't like where this was going.

"Yeah…"

"Gregory, demons can guard people just as much as angels can. It all depends on who reaches the person first. Usually, we are able to take care of them, having an angel reach the person first. However…" Mycroft drummed his fingers against his umbrella tensely, "There was one we weren't able to beat."

Greg's eyes widened slightly. "So… a demon's going to… kill me?"

"As I've said, no. Not as long as I'm here. I'm not going to lie, Gregory. This demon is very clever and is going to get a man to kill so many people, including you, if we don't kill them as soon as possible."

"So you're asking me to kill a demon for you?"

Mycroft heaved a sigh, shaking his head, "No. I'm likely going to have to be the one to do that. I'm here to assist you. You are likely going to start finding murders popping up all over London soon and now you'll know why. I just need you to investigate and not rule out something like this, no matter how ridiculous it may sound to you. You care about this country, I can tell, and I know you'll want to stop this."

Greg stared at the angel. His thoughts were racing and his head ached with this new information. He wasn't quite sure how to react.

"Alright, alright. I'll help." He muttered, leaning his back against the wall. Mycroft's features softened, almost appearing relieved. "Just… _try_ to… protect me, I guess."

"Trust me, Detective Inspector. You are my first priority."


	4. Chapter 4: Commencement

**A Truly Angelic Gentleman**

**Chapter 4: Commencement**

When Gregory got up the next morning, he was startled to find that Mycroft hadn't moved from his spot on the sofa from the previous night. He looked exactly the same; no messy hair, no wrinkles in his suit, nothing. He was flipping through a book that had been left on the table and looked up when he heard Greg enter.

"Ah, good morning." He said politely, placing the book down and standing. Greg was slightly put off by Mycroft's formal demeanor, but decided that ignoring it for now would be the best course of action.

"Did you sleep at all?" Greg asked as he started to make a pot of coffee.

"No. Angels don't exactly need sleep. It is more of a luxury; nice when had, but not necessary." Greg nodded absentmindedly. Thinking about that prompted a second question.

"Is food the same way?" He asked, looking to the gentleman. "Yes, of course." Mycroft answered. Greg nodded again, allowing a light bulb to go off in his head.

"Guess that explains why your brother never eats." He laughed, pouring two cups of coffee and passing one to Mycroft. He wasn't exactly sure why he did this, knowing that Mycroft didn't exactly _have to _eat, but he figured politeness was the course of action.

"Yes. He doesn't really see the point, even if it causes difficulties in him blending in with other people." He murmured thanks and sipped the warm coffee.

"Yeah, he stands out a bit." Greg chuckled, drinking his coffee as well before glancing up at the clock, "I have to go to work. You can stay here if you'd like or-"

"I'll remain here. It is far simpler than trying to wander about London simply to entertain myself. Just get in contact me if anything strange occurs, understand?" Mycroft's features changed from sarcastic to stern.

"Yeah. I got it. I'll just call," He gestured to the phone that sat on the counter, "You _do know _how to use a-"

"Gregory, I am an angel, not a shut-in. I know what a phone is." Greg rolled his eyes, ignoring the sarcastic retort.

"Alright, alright; I get it. See you." Greg placed his cup in the sink before grabbing his coat and heading out the door.

* * *

'Yeah… I'm _definitely _going to call him.'

Upon entering his office that morning, Greg was slammed with a triple homicide. The victims were two sisters and one of their husbands, all in their mid to late thirties. They had all been shot, but the problem was that they had been shot from a considerable distance and the only building they could have been shot from was locked tight, no signs of an entry, and none of the security cameras saw any person enter or leave the building at their times of death.

Greg groaned tiredly, pulling out his mobile and quickly hitting speed-dial.

"Do you have a case?" The voice said from the other end.

"Yes, hello to you too, Sherlock." Greg sighed into the phone. He couldn't believe that this insufferable man was actually an angel.

"Yes, yes. Hello, how's the job, etc, etc. Unnecessary details. Now, do you have a case?" Greg rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Triple homicide, all shot. Not quite sure how yet, will you come?"

"Text me the details. John and I will be there." The dial tone rang out. Greg hastily typed in the address and extra information before dialing his flat.

"Hello, Lestrade Residence."

"Mycroft? Why are you answering like that?" Greg asked.

"Well, I didn't want people to call and think they had the wrong number. You have some messages; I took them down for you."

"Yeah, thanks. Listen, I think I found something that may be what you were talking about. There's been a triple homicide. They've all been shot from pretty far off. The thing is that the only place they could have been shot from is locked tight. No forced entry, nothing damaged, and no cameras saw anybody enter or leave the building. Would that be something?" There was silence on the other end. "Mycroft?"

"What's the address?"

"Uh… 1265 Richmond Street. But Mycroft, I've already got-"

"Irrelevant. I need to see this, Gregory. It is my job, after all."


	5. Chapter 5: Humans and Their Angels

**A Truly Angelic Gentleman**

**Chapter 5: Familiarizing Humans and Their Guardians**

"Sir? A man is trying to get in to the crime scene. He says he's with you." Sally said behind Greg, arms folded across her chest, as was customary when Sherlock and John were at a crime scene. Greg turned around and looked out the window to see Mycroft, standing perfectly poised behind the yellow police tape and his umbrella propped against his shoulder.

"Let him in, he's with me." Sally sighed before going back and lifting up the tape, allowing Mycroft to venture into the building and up to the room. When he finally arrived, Sherlock was pacing about the room, murmuring incoherently to himself.

"Why did you call him in? You know what this is, Gregory, you don't need him to try and solve something that can't be solved with your science." Sherlock stopped and glared over at Mycroft. John looked up as well, surprised by the new voice.

"Ah, Mycroft. How nice to see you. Putting on weight again? Really shouldn't eat food from this place, extremely fattening." Sherlock sneered at his brother. Greg saw Mycroft's brow quirk in annoyance.

"Sorry, who're you?" John asked looking over at Mycroft, confusion all over his face. Mycroft held out a hand to John, who took his nervously.

"Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's elder brother." A quiet scoff could be heard from Sherlock at this.

"Sorry, but… brother? How can you… I mean, you're-" John started, but stopped himself, realizing that Greg was in the room.

"He knows." Mycroft answered before facing his brother. "Sherlock, you know what this is."

"No, there has to be a scientific-"

"There _is_ a scientific way. Just not _their _scientific way." Mycroft hissed, nodding towards Greg and John.

"Sorry, what?" John asked, stepping forward, addressing the brothers. The two turned to face him.

"There's this demon thing loose and it's using a person to kill lots of people _fast_. Basically, we need to stop it." Greg answered before the two Holmes to bicker over who would explain.

"You mean… there are demons too!?" John exclaimed before staring wildly at Sherlock. "Why didn't you say this before!?"

The detective shrugged. "It was never significant until now." John heaved a sigh, sliding a hand over his face tiredly.

"And how do you know about… you know, all of this?" He questioned Greg. The detective inspector shrugged.

"Apparently, Mycroft's _my _guardian angel. Just like Sherlock's is yours." John's eyes widened, stunned by the fact that Greg knew about Sherlock.

"Have you figured out who the demon's latched itself onto yet?" Mycroft inquired.

"I have a few theories, yes. But not enough time to disprove all of them."

"Wait, what's that supposed to mean?" Greg asked, although he feared that he already knew the answer. Mycroft smiled somberly at him.

"I'm afraid so, Detective Inspector. I hope they pay you overtime."


	6. Chapter 6: Who Are You, Exactly?

**A Truly Angelic Gentleman**

**Chapter 6: Who Are You, Exactly?**

"Are you really going to continue to glare at me like that?"

Greg had been glowering at Mycroft since they had left the crime scene and returned to his office. Mycroft leaned against Greg's desk leisurely.

"I understand you are upset Grego-"

"I'm not bloody upset, Mycroft! I'm pissed off!" Greg shouted, slamming a palm on his desk angrily, "You basically just told me that, despite the fact that both you and your brother are goddamn angels, you can't figure out who the hell is doing this in time to save anyone else!?"

Mycroft remained silent when Greg had finished.

"Well? I'm right, yeah!?" Greg said, fixing him with a sharp look. Mycroft held his gaze.

"Gregory, do actually think I am pleased about this?" He asked his tone bitter and cold. "Do you believe I am happy with the fact that I cannot save these people?"

Greg's retort fell silent on his tongue, once he saw Mycroft's broken expression (Or as close as he could get to one, considering his consistent mask of seriousness).

"No… no, I don't."

"I wouldn't imagine you did."

The silence cut the air between them. Greg finally let out a tired groan and plopped his forehead tiredly on his desk.

"Sorry." The apology was muffled against the metal tabletop.

"It's fine." Mycroft looked outside of the office, only to find that several officers staring confusedly at him. He turned back to his conversational partner.

"Who do they," He pointed outside of the office with the tip of his umbrella, "think I am, exactly?" Greg sat up and looked at where he was pointing.

"Huh? Oh… uh… I don't know. I guess they think you're a specialist for the case or something." He answered as Sally came to the door and knocked rapidly. Mycroft pulled the door open and she practically shoved herself inside.

"Sir! There's been another hit!" She confirmed, her eyes broad in worry. Greg and Mycroft shot one another wide-eyed looks.

"Where?" Greg asked, pulling on his coat. As she explained the situation and they began to leave the building, Mycroft followed behind the two silently. Sally stopped abruptly and turned to glare back at the angel.

"What are you doing? Who the hell are you?" She asked, resting balled fists on her hips.

"Mycroft Holmes, investigative specialist. I've been assigned to this case." He smiled his shark-like grin. Sally's eyes narrowed darkly.

"Holmes? How many of you fre-" She was cut off by a warning look from Lestrade.

"Only the two, I assure you, Sergeant Donovan." Before she was able to react, Mycroft began to stroll over to the police car.

"You two are coming, yes?"


	7. Chapter 7: Burnt Hearts

**A Truly Angelic Gentleman**

**Chapter 7: Burnt Hearts**

The second Greg and his team appeared on the scene, he had to focus his entire concentration to keep from vomiting. Upon entering the room that the bodies were held, he was hit with the overpowering stench of blood. The sight of the bodies was horrific.

It was the same as the previous hit; three victims, all shot. However, the chests of each of the victims had been slashed open with a sharp instrument. The blood had been spilt all over the bodies and the wooden floor, spelling out a message in harsh, red letters.

_**'I will burn you.'**_

"What is that supposed to mean? 'I will burn you'?" John asked, his voice muffled by his coat sleeve, currently being used to filter the smell.

"It means exactly what it says, John. Honestly, some days you can be so dense." Sherlock answered, circling the bodies in search for some sort of clue that the forensics team might have overlooked.

"Burn who, though?" Greg asked, his arms crossed defensively over his chest, a paper mask held to his nose. Mycroft stood next to him, leaning on his umbrella as usual, except his usually somber expression was currently contorted in disgust.

"I'm not sure…" Sherlock muttered, obviously irritated about not knowing the answer. Greg looked to Mycroft in hopes of an answer to the question, just as Sherlock did the same.

"Brother, dear; you know more about this demon than we do. What does this mean?" Sherlock questioned, one hand resting on his hip, the other gesturing to the bodies of the victims. Mycroft stood straightly, lifting his chin and glancing down to the bodies.

"Well," he began, scrutinizing the details of the victims, "We are dealing with a higher class demon." He pointed towards the open wounds of the bodies with his umbrella. Sherlock followed his gaze, nodding intently. John's eyes narrowed confusedly.

"Sorry… but how do you know that?" He asked.

"The hearts are missing." The brothers stated matter-of-factly. They glared at each other pointedly for a few moments before Mycroft broke the eye contact to address John.

"Higher class demons are known for burning and eating the hearts of their victims. The hearts would still be here if it was simply a lower class one." Mycroft explained. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, because obviously a lower class demon was able to escape hell and get to a human before us." He muttered sarcastically, receiving a sharp look from his elder brother. Both John's and Greg's faces were twisted in horror.

"Are you serious!?" Greg stared horrified at Mycroft, "They just… _eat _people's hearts!?" Mycroft nodded.

"They don't care. Gregory, you have to understand; while some angels care about humans and some hate humans, all demons simply _don't care _about humans. They don't care if they live or die. They hold no emotion for your people in any way, shape or form. To them, you just don't matter. You are insignificant."

The room was utterly silent, Mycroft's words stinging Greg and John's thoughts. Finally, Sherlock spoke up.

"Alright, so we know what we're searching for. Higher class demons go for people with a troubled past, yes? Dark history, constantly down on their luck, usually just when they're about to take their own lives. Added to th-" Sherlock was interrupted by Greg.

"Hang on a tic; I thought angels save people who are about to kill themselves." Sherlock glared at the man, obviously bitter about being cut off before answering the inquiry.

"Not always. My brother came to save you now, did he not? Besides, only high class angels do that in the first place, simply because we have the ability to be seen by other humans, not just the ones we guard. As Mycroft has likely explained, it wouldn't really be in the best of tastes to be only visible to our humans. Your society isn't too fond of people who appear to speak and react to things that aren't there." John's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Wait, you two are high class angels?" Sherlock turned to the ex-army doctor.

"Obviously." Mycroft let out a light sigh at his brother's bluntness.

"Back to the point," He began, resting against his umbrella back to the floor, "Added with the qualities found in a high class demon, we need to find a man with a difficult history and powerful experience with a gun. He should be accustomed to violence and have a strong pain tolerance."

"Why high pain tolerance?" Greg asked.

"Demons have an excruciating temper and will often attack humans if they are angry enough, coupled with the fact that, over time, they begin to peel away at the person's soul, taking it for themselves."

"I thought that was just in films and things like that!" John exclaimed. Sherlock shook his head.

"Seems you humans got some things correct in those ridiculous fantasies of yours."

"Alright, alright. So we want a bloke who's got issues, uses a gun well, is used to violence and can take a hit. That doesn't give us much to work with." Greg muttered. Mycroft shot him a smile, the same sinister smirk he gave Sally earlier.

"Oh, Gregory, it gives us all of the information we need."


End file.
